Recovery
by will's gurl
Summary: Takesplace after Hell and High Water Doug experiances emotional truma after all is said and done.Read


Disclaimer: I don't own ER or any of its characters.

Chapter One

Dr. Doug Ross slid into the old yellow taxicab that his best friend and colleague, Dr. Mark Greene had called for him. He had never been a big fan of them, and on any other night would have insisted on taking the L-train home, but he just didn't have a fight left in him.

The events that had taken place only hours before played over and over in his mind. They ran together now one flash after another.

_The storm…the flat…the boy trapped in the tunnel begging him for help…the icy river…saving his life_.

It all felt too surreal. It was almost like a dream.

"You okay?" A voice pulled Doug from his thoughts making him aware of the movement of the cab. He looked over and saw Mark sitting beside him, a look of concern in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Doug asked, immediately feeling dumb as soon as the words fell from his lips.

Mark stared for a moment. "I wasn't letting you leave by yourself," he told him. "You're half-frozen, and should really probably be in a hospital bed tonight."

"It's not that bad," Doug whispered softly, suddenly feeling cold. He shivered and pulled the coat Mark had given him tighter around his body.

"Uh huh," Mark said, watching him, unconvinced. "You still haven't answered my question. Are you all right?"

Doug shrugged his shoulders, and turned to the window. He stared out at the passing cars and buildings.

Mark let out a sigh. "Look, tonight was rough. It's okay to be a little shaken up. We all have nights like this. Remember when I lost that woman to preaclampcia?"

Doug didn't even make a sound. He knew Mark had had a really hard time getting over the death of his patient, but that had been a completely different situation. No, tonight Doug Ross had experienced something he couldn't remember feeling in the longest time: fear. Extreme fear. The kind of fear people you see on TV after freak accidents, and never expect will happen to you. As much as he wanted to, Mark couldn't understand what he was possibly going through, because he hadn't been there.

The cab came to a stop in front of Doug's building. Mark paid the driver his fee, and got out with Doug close behind. The cold night air hit him hard, and he shook against it. Doug and Mark walked slowly in silence. Mark guided Doug through the sea of reporters in the lobby just as he had done earlier outside of the hospital. They climbed into an elevator.

"Thanks Mark," Doug said his voice quiet. "You know, the reporters and everything." Then with a very thin smile added. "They give you a course on how to deal with the press when they made you an attending?"

"I guess it was just my stunning personality," Mark replied, returning the smile.

The elevator doors opened, and they made their way to Doug's apartment. Doug fumbled with his keys, barely able to see past the exhaustion clouding his eyes. Finally, he slipped the key into the lock, turned the knob, and entered.

Mark followed, and closed the door. Doug pulled off Mark's coat, laying it down on the leather sofa. His legs turned weak, and he started shivering again. No damn heat, and his hair and scrubs were still damp.

Without a word, he went into his room. He shut the door, choosing to leave the light off. A soft glow from the Chicago skyline gave an eerie illumination. Mark's footsteps could be heard on the other side of the door, leaving Doug wishing Mark were in Milwaukee with his wife, Jen, instead of staying with him so he could have an easier commute in the morning. Sighing, he entered his bathroom. His eyes fell upon the reflection in the mirror staring back at him, tired and wounded. He winced as he fingered the gauze that covered the stitches on his forehead. He had more on his arm. Reminders of a night he just wanted to forget.

Doug eased himself slowly out of his wet clothes. He tugged on a warm pair of plaid pajama bottoms, a long-sleeved gray Chicago Bulls shirt, and a pair of white socks.

Going back into the bedroom, Doug threw back the covers, and climbed into bed. As his head fell against the pillow, he felt hot tears prick his eyes. Doug lay there, and cried himself to sleep.


End file.
